The Refugee

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The border was a wound drawn across our blood,

A sudden storm that stole the earth we knew.

The rivers forgot the songs they once had sung,

And the sky no longer felt like home or true.


We left our doors, our gardens, and our names,

Carrying only memories in our eyes.

A home is not made only of walls and flames-

It lives where a heart can safely rise.


I walked away with nothing in my hand,

Yet carried worlds that others could not see.

The dust of my homeland followed every step,

A silent shadow walking beside me.


I became a pillar made of fragile clay,

Holding a roof of borrowed skies above.

I hid my wounds beneath a quiet smile,

And gave my weakness the shape of love.


They saw the lamp that brightened up their night,

The hands that stitched their broken dreams again.

They never saw the darkness inside my soul,

Or counted all the tears hidden like rain.


I became the river that never stopped flowing,

Even when the stones had broken me.

I gave my mornings to their tomorrow,

And buried my own dreams beneath the sea.


I gave away my spring so theirs could bloom,

I traded love for bread, and hope for dawn.

My youth became a coin I could not keep,

Spent slowly until everything was gone.


I once held a dream like a flower in my heart,

A little world where I could simply be.

But storms arrived before the season changed,

And carried that flower far away from me.


They called me strong because I never cried,

They never heard the silence of my pain.

A smile can hide a thousand broken pieces,

A heart can drown beneath a quiet rain.


Now the evening rests upon my face,

A fading star behind a cloud of grey.

I built a home where others found their peace,

But lost myself along the way.


Still, beneath these ashes and forgotten years,

A small voice lives beyond my sorrow and fear.

I was not born only to carry burdens,

I was not made only to disappear.


I wanted a sky that carried my own dreams,

A path where my own footsteps could be seen.

I wanted to laugh without feeling guilty,

I wanted to know what happiness means.


I am more than the story of a broken land,

More than the tears of a forgotten name.

I am the woman who survived the storm,

The silent star that still remembers its flame.

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